The Silver Lining
by Lady-of-the-Refrigerator
Summary: How on earth could it still be possible for Raymond Reddington, The Concierge of Crime, to have such a… a normal morning? [short chapters, S4A spoilers, Lizzington, Agnesgate, sequel to After the Storm, 10/10, COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

The first time Red stayed the night, it had been unintentional.

He'd fallen asleep on Lizzy's couch with Agnes tucked against his shoulder, her tiny fingers clinging to his collar and neck. Lizzy hadn't had the heart to disturb them, she'd said later.

The next morning, when he stood in front of her bathroom mirror to freshen up, a wave of longing swelled up in his chest so strong it nearly drowned him. This was what he wanted so badly for so long, but didn't dare allow himself to consider anywhere within his reach. Well, not _this_ exactly—waking up on the couch with a crick in his neck and his tie soaked with baby drool—but close enough of a facsimile to make his breath catch.

It was the simple things, really, that ended up meaning the most. There was a package of disposable razors in the medicine cabinet, the same cheap, drugstore brand Red used while they were on the run. The fact that the package was unopened implied Lizzy might have bought them with him in mind; the fact that Tom Keen favored the scruffy, unwashed hipster look reinforced it.

Red and Lizzy hadn't woken up under the same roof since the day after she'd been released from prison. For months, he thought it would never happen again, yet there he was. And it seemed likely she _had_ thought it would happen again, and maybe even prepared for the eventuality.

Discussing a hypothetical future together was one thing. Taking steps to prepare for it was another thing entirely. He wondered when she bought the razors.

When he finished his morning ablutions, she had a plate of waffles waiting for him on the kitchen table—properly toasted, too, despite her bizarre fondness for eating them frozen right out of the box. (His housewarming gift of a toaster oven and a four-slice pop-up toaster hadn't gone to waste; no more waffle-heating house fire incidents for Lizzy, no siree.)

When the time came to say goodbye, he crouched down next to Agnes' high chair and earned himself a syrupy hug and a kiss and one final morsel of waffle that she held out for him to eat from her adorable little fingers.

Saying goodbye to Lizzy was far more awkward. They'd see each other again in only a couple of hours at the Post Office, after all, where they would have to pretend they hadn't just eaten breakfast together as a family. Where they'd have to pretend they weren't a family at all.

Which they were.

They were a family. He had a family again.

Red was so far out of his depth he had no idea how far he'd have to swim to reach shore.

He lingered for a long moment, made to feel infinitely longer by the expectant expression on Lizzy's face. When it seemed like his loss for words would continue indefinitely, she shook her head and sighed, then darted forward to press a brief peck of a kiss to his cheek.

"See you later," she said, giving his bicep a quick, casual squeeze.

Once he was in the hallway outside her apartment, Red leaned back against her closed door and took a few deep breaths to ground himself.

How on earth could it still be possible for Raymond Reddington, The Concierge of Crime, to have such a… a _normal_ morning?


	2. Chapter 2

The second time Red spent the night at Lizzy's apartment had been after a frantic phone call woke him out of a dead sleep.

His stomach dropped when he read her name on his tiny, glowing cell phone screen; adrenaline surged in his veins while he fumbled to flip the phone open with clumsy fingers, hoping against hope that whatever problem would drive Lizzy to call him in the middle of the night wasn't too dire.

"Hey, Red. Sorry for calling so late," she said shakily, clearly struggling to keep the panic out of her voice; there was crying in the background, a miserable, desperate sound that showed no sign of stopping. "How much do you know about bringing down a fever? Agnes has a cold."

Red's eyes slid shut in relief. Agnes was sick, yes, but after everything she'd been through in her short life, a cold he knew how to deal with. A cold he could handle.

"I'll be right over."

Dressing quickly, Red gathered some essentials into a leather satchel and headed for his car. In his haste, he nearly forgot to leave Dembe a note explaining where he would be. Hopefully, his friend would've been able to make an educated guess even without one, but Red knew Dembe was especially worried about him lately. It wouldn't be fair to disappear on him like that.

When he arrived at Lizzy's door, Red didn't even need to knock before she pulled it open; she must've been watching from the window, waiting to catch sight of his headlights driving down her quiet street, listening for the sound of his feet in the hall.

"Thanks so much for coming," Lizzy whispered, closing the door behind him as softly as she could. "I can't even begin to tell you what this means to me."

Red reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "It'll be all right, Lizzy."

She swallowed hard, and nodded in the direction of a makeshift little bed she'd set up on the couch, where an exhausted-looking Agnes was sleeping fitfully. "She cried herself to sleep. For now, at least. It's been like that for hours. She cries herself to sleep, wakes up miserable, and starts all over again."

Lizzy walked across the room, silent in her stocking feet, and stood over Agnes, subtly worrying her scar in a way that would have probably been discreet if Red wasn't so familiar with her nervous habit. "She's never been sick before. It must be so confusing for her," she said, her voice breaking.

Red set his bag on the floor, then shrugged out of his jacket and hung it by the door. Worried though she was, Lizzy still did a double-take when he turned around again.

"What are you wearing?"

He stopped short and took stock of his clothing. "Polo shirt, chinos…"

"Are those _sneakers_?" she asked, and the way her face scrunched up was adorable enough that Red didn't really care whether she was judging his clothing choices or not.

"Yes? This didn't seem like a three-piece suit and dress shoes kind of visit."

"No, I guess not."

Lizzy seemed at a loss standing there, biting her lip, distracted by his unusual outfit. Self-consciousness began to itch its way up from the base of Red's neck and his ears grew warm under her continued scrutiny.

The moment stretched.

Lizzy cleared her throat and looked away first. "Anyway, um…" Her cheeks went pink. "It's-it's a good look on you."

Oh.

Maybe he didn't have anything to be self-conscious about, then.

Red let out a breath and with it, some of the unexpected tension in his shoulders loosened.

Perhaps he didn't need a late-night illness as a pretense to wear fewer layers of armor around Lizzy, in this… sacred space… where somehow a family had been forged from conflict and uncertainty. Perhaps this, tonight, was another milestone on the road to rebuilding some of what they once had.

(Granted, the bit of fire in Lizzy's eyes did surprise him a little. There was a difference between understanding that she was ostensibly still attracted to him and seeing evidence of it firsthand.)

"So," he said, breaking the awkward silence, "how about I take a closer look at the patient?"

"Right. Yeah. I doubt she'll stay asleep much longer, anyway."

Lizzy led him over to her dining room table, which was doing a passable impression of the baby aisle at the drug store.

"I, um… I bought just about everything they had. I don't know what works best," she said, staring at the haphazard spread of baby products, and began chewing on the skin at the edge of her thumb.

"Well, they didn't have all of this stuff the last time I was…" He trailed off and shrugged. A moment later, he felt Lizzy's hand on his shoulder, returning the reassuring squeeze he'd given her earlier. "What kind of a thermometer _is_ that?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not sure. It had good reviews. Besides, I have three others."

Red chuckled and Lizzy smiled, just a little, just enough to remind him of some of those evenings they'd spent at his friend's theatre, running lines to stave off boredom and fear. And for the first time in a long time, those memories didn't call up anything but a wistful nostalgia. Not pain. Not grief. Not turmoil. It was simply a pleasant memory of the past, and now that the present—maybe even the future—was no longer so grim, it wasn't as heartbreaking to remember.

Agnes began to stir on the couch, making distressed little noises before she even managed to open her eyes properly. Red exchanged a glance with Lizzy before bending down to scoop the sniffling infant into his arms.

Agnes' face lit up when she realized who was holding her, but her joy was quickly swept away when she sneezed and her face crumpled in discomfort and tears began to flow again.

"Oh, I know, honey, I know. Being sick is no fun." He pressed his cheek to her forehead. "She does feel warm."

Lizzy checked the clock on her phone. "Her medicine must be wearing off. She's due for another dose in half an hour."

Red nodded. "Come on, Agnes. Let's get you changed and ready for bed."


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was just starting to brighten outside the curtains in Lizzy's bedroom when she began to stir; Red watched her slowly became aware of her surroundings and try to sit up in bed, only to let out a string of violent sneezes and a miserable groan, falling back onto her pillows. She covered her eyes with a hand and sighed.

"You OK?" he asked.

Lizzy peeked at Red from between her fingers. "Ugh. No. I guess I have to face facts—I have officially caught Agnes' cold," she said, certainly sounding congested enough. "How long was I out?"

"A while."

"How about Agnes?"

Red smiled faintly, remembering how they'd given Agnes a lukewarm bath together before putting her to bed. Or tried to do it together, at least. By the time Agnes was dried off and diapered and safely snug in her crib, Lizzy had passed out in her bed on top of the covers from sheer exhaustion. And, as it turned out, the early stages of Agnes' cold.

As always, Lizzy had found it difficult to completely relinquish control—she fretted while they bathed Agnes, poised to jump in at any moment Red needed help, reassured only by the fact that he obviously knew what he was doing. He knew the right temperature for the water, how to wash the little girl, gentle but thorough, how to keep her safe and calm…

He wondered how much of Lizzy's distress was simply her maternal protectiveness in overdrive and how much was a reflection of just how unskilled Tom Keen had been at parenting an infant. Had he been too rough, too clumsy? Red wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

"She's sleeping peacefully. Her fever broke, oh, about—" he squinted at his watch—"four hours ago."

"That's good to hear."

Red hummed in agreement, then rolled his neck and stretched, working the kinks out of his joints.

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Couple hours, I think," he said, his voice going higher with the effort to stifle a yawn.

"In the chair?" she asked; he nodded. "You could've laid down in bed, you know."

Red froze, his breath catching in his throat. He felt like he was free-falling, like the ground had disappeared from under him. Did Lizzy realize how big a step that would be? To share a bed again, even casually, even platonically? That he would never _presume_ to… Good god. He hoped she couldn't tell how rattled he was. His heart was doing its damnedest to escape his chest, pounding loud enough that it was hard to believe she couldn't hear it, too.

He arranged his face into what he hoped was a teasing expression and said, "And risked catching that cold?"

Which earned him a pillow thrown at his head, but Lizzy's aim was bad and he easily dodged it. He crossed the small space between the chair and her bed and sat down on the edge, next to her hip; he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and she let her eyes slide shut, leaning into his cool skin.

"God, I feel awful."

"Is there anything I can get you? Glass of water? Cup of tea, with honey and lemon? Soup?"

Lizzy made a face. "It's too early for soup."

"I thought you'd say that. How about eggs? Just some plain scrambled eggs, toast, maybe a little jam… It'll help keep your strength up."

She nodded lethargically. He smiled in relief, and when he moved to stand, she caught hold of him weakly by the forearm.

"Thank you. Again," she said quietly.

"My pleasure," he said, perhaps too quickly. "Well, I mean…"

Her lips quirked up in a tiny, tired smile. "Don't worry. I know what you mean," she said, rubbing softly at his wrist.


	4. Chapter 4

Red glanced at his watch and ran an antsy hand over the hair at the back of his head.

(He'd been lax about keeping it trimmed the last couple weeks; he wasn't fond of how scruffy it felt, but he was a new father. Some things took precedence.)

(What a surreal thought that was.)

Agnes was babbling away in her crib, watching whatever children's show Lizzy had put on for her from Netflix, looking for all the world like someone on the mend. Red worried, however, that if she wasn't quite as healed as it seemed like she was, her misery would surely return just as soon as her medicine wore off. He dreaded the possibility of watching her little face crumple again, seeing her confused eyes look to him and Lizzy, silently begging them to take the discomfort away.

Lizzy herself was looking at him strangely, right at that moment. Perhaps because he'd been pacing ever since he brought her breakfast tray in from the kitchen.

He checked his watch again.

Lizzy bit her lip, pausing with the last forkful of eggs raised halfway to her mouth. "Do you have to be somewhere?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, I don't. I'm just making sure Agnes isn't due for her next dose of medicine yet."

"When is she due?"

"In an hour."

Lizzy's brows crept up her forehead. "You've checked your watch five times. Relax. I'm pretty sure time doesn't move any faster because she's sick. And remember, this is coming from me, who called you at midnight like the world was gonna end because she had a stuffy nose."

"The first cold is scary," he said, with a shrug.

"Yes, it is. Still…" She trailed off with a sigh and beckoned him over to the side of her bed, patting the quilt beside her in invitation. He sat, heaving a heavy sigh himself, and she picked up his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she said, "Last night, I was frazzled. Overtired. Apparently getting sick myself. You were there for me. For Agnes. You didn't even hesitate, you just… dropped everything to help."

"Of course I did."

"Red," she said, looking at him with an odd expectant expression on her face, as if she was waiting for him to say something, to read something in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. If there's a point you're trying to make, I'm missing it."

"Look… I appreciate what you're doing for us. With all my heart. Breakfast was delicious, and letting me sleep so long… Trust me, I'm beyond grateful. But I didn't call you so you could pamper me and neglect yourself. You don't see it, but you're right where I was yesterday. Only now _you_ haven't had enough sleep, and here you are, still waiting on me."

"I've gotten by on far less sleep than I had last night."

"I'm sure you have. But right now you don't have to. Come on." She patted his thigh and shooed him off her side of the bed, then scooted over to make room, folding the covers down for him. "Lie down for a while. And if you happen to fall asleep? Don't worry. I've got her."

Red stood there for a long moment at somewhat of a loss, drumming his fingers on his thigh where she touched him.

Truth be told, he _was_ tired. Usually, he could function pretty well on very little sleep, but seeing Agnes suffer with no way to explain to her that everything would be fine had obviously taken its toll. He hadn't had to face the day to day realities of fatherhood in a very long time. He wasn't nearly as prepared for it as he thought he would be, theoretically.

It wouldn't hurt to rest his eyes for a few minutes.

He rounded the bed, toed off his sneakers, and—taking a deep, fortifying breath—crawled under the quilt.

The sheets were warm, inviting. From Lizzy's body heat. From Lizzy, who was so close, yet so very far away. Reaching for her would be instinctual, much more so than lying there stiffly suppressing the urge, but something held him back.

Was it too soon for this? Could they share a bed without the ghost of what brought them here lingering, reminding them of what had been, and what could be? Could they trust themselves not to screw everything up again?

And did Lizzy want the same thing he did, he wondered? To be past walking on eggshells, worried about crossing lines and bringing up painful memories? To acknowledge that they might still crave the closeness they once had, however fleeting?

Red _wanted_ to reach for Lizzy. Touch was so important to them—even when they were at odds with each other, even after she came back from the dead… Touch could bridge the divide where words could not.

He curled on his side, feeling tension build in his body. Perhaps Lizzy felt it, too. Even though his eyes were closed, he could still tell that she kept stealing glances at him. He felt her attention like an itch, one that wasn't wholly unpleasant, but distracting all the same.

He opened his eyes and she looked away, pretending to focus on Agnes' tv show.

Why didn't _she_ reach for _him?_ She'd done so just a few minute ago, after all.

Maybe she wanted it to be him, this time. Maybe she was… waiting for permission.

"Lizzy. I don't care if I catch your cold," he said, ever able to address matters of the heart without deflecting onto less treacherous ground.

When she didn't move to take Red's hand from where it rested on the covers, he slid it closer, palm facing up in a clear invitation. Clearer than his assurances, at least.

Lizzy eyed his hand and then met his searching gaze for a charged moment, before reaching down and entwining their fingers like she used to when they were together before.

It felt… good. Right. It felt like the chasm between them was shrinking, little by little.

Baby steps.

He could live with that.


	5. Chapter 5

To Red's surprise, he slept. For hours, it seemed—the light streaming in the bedroom window had taken on a warm afternoon glow by the time he opened his eyes again. Still foggy from sleep, he slowly stretched out under Lizzy's quilt, and made one more discovery: he was alone.

No momentary rush of panic came along with his discovery, however, which was also a surprise. It was often Red's first thought upon awakening that Lizzy was gone, but today he didn't doubt for a second that she would still be there. Sure, it was her apartment, but even so…

Many a completely normal morning was colored by that fear, and he had to remind himself frequently that she was back, that she was safe, that the living nightmare of her death was long past, and hopefully something he would not live to experience again. Waking up without even a hint of that fear for once was… refreshing. Almost as refreshing as several solid hours of sleep.

Red threw back the covers and padded out to the living room. He found Lizzy exactly where he expected her to be: in the rocking chair with Agnes napping on her chest.

"Hey," she said, smiling faintly when she noticed him in the doorway. "Did you sleep OK?"

He folded his arms and leaned back against the door jamb. "I think so. No sleep talking or walking as far as I can tell…?" He trailed off with a questioning lilt to his voice, hoping she'd confirm it for him.

"No."

"No nightmares?" he asked, still attempting to project a nonchalance he didn't quite feel.

Lizzy would understand what he was really asking. Unfortunately, she had to witness the full extent of his sleep disturbances more than once when they were on the lam. (There'd been nights like that after they were back, too, though no one was around to witness them then. And of course there had been more after she died, but he didn't like to think about those nights anymore.)

Red had witnessed his fair share of Lizzy's bad nights, too, which was part and parcel of spending so much time with each other in boltholes, ready to run at a moment's notice. (Tom Keen was always a villain in her subconscious, even if it took longer for her to accept that he was one in reality as well.)

"No, no nightmares."

"Good. I wouldn't want to disturb—"

"You wouldn't have disturbed me," she said, quick and insistent. "I would've been glad you were here and not by yourself."

"OK," he offered awkwardly, for lack of something better to say; they lapsed into silence for a long, uncomfortable moment.

Honestly, Red was somewhat taken aback by Lizzy's vehemence. It would take some getting used to, he supposed. The idea that he didn't need to hide his foibles for fear of burdening her or appearing weak to her was a foreign one. Truly letting his guard down with a partner hadn't been an option for a long time. Not to mention that a lot of the relationships he'd been in, complicated though they were, came with much less baggage than this one.

"I ordered take out," she said, after a while, once the silence began to feel suffocating and Red found himself unable to fill it with anything near to his usual wit. "I thought you might be hungry when you woke up. It's in the fridge."

As if on cue, his stomach started to growl at the prospect of food and he couldn't help but smirk. "Sounds perfect," he said. "I'm sorry I left you hanging for—" he blinked at his watch in disbelief— "Did I really sleep for _six hours?"_

She nodded. "You must've needed it."

"I guess so."

"I, um…" Lizzy said, rubbing surreptitiously at the scar on her palm. "I hope you don't mind but… I made you a plate. So it would be easy to grab if things got hectic again, you know?"

"Of course I don't mind." He paused to drop a kiss at the crown of her head as he strolled past on the way to the kitchen. "Thank you."

"There's still some egg drop soup on the top shelf if you want any," she called after him.

"Maybe later. How's Agnes been?" Red said over his shoulder as he opened the fridge.

(His heart skipped a beat when he saw what was inside. Lizzy ordered from his favorite noodle shop, rather than her go-to Chinese place. Lately, he found that the simplest things resonated with him the most—little thoughtful gestures that he didn't ever ask for, but she took upon herself to do anyway. If this was what it was like to be on even footing with her, to approach their relationship as equals, he wouldn't trade it for the world.)

"Better than she's felt in days. She's been having trouble keeping solid food down since she got sick; I think swallowing all that mucus upsets her stomach, but she managed to eat some noodles without spitting up all over me."

Red dropped down onto the couch on the end nearest Lizzy and balanced his plate on his knee.

"That might be because these noodles are exquisite. She has good taste."

"You mean she has _your_ taste."

He reached out and squeezed her hand where it lay on her armrest. "She'll be the best of both of us," he said, almost a non-sequitur, and his earnestness caught them both a little off guard. A joke about noodles hardly warranted it, but here they were nonetheless. Lizzy was quiet for a long moment before she responded.

"I hope so," she said, with a small smile. He returned it lazily, leaning closer to her and ducking his head to catch her gaze.

"How are _you_ feeling, Lizzy?"

"My DayQuil is starting to wear off. Other than that—not as terrible as I did when I woke up. You make a good nurse."

"I make a better nurse than a patient," he said, and gave her hand one final squeeze before tucking in to his meal.

"Seriously? You seem like the kind of guy who would really enjoy taking a sick day."

"Sure, but that's only fun if you're playing hooky. What good is it if you're actually sick? Dembe is a fine caregiver, but believe me, he's a hard taskmaster when it comes to proper recovery from illness or injury. He has very little patience for my excuses. Or whining, which is the same thing as far as he's concerned."

"Come on, you mean he doesn't let you sit around binge watching Netflix all day when you could be doing physical therapy?"

"Binge watching?"

Lizzy raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've never tried to watch unhealthy amounts of television in one go before."

Red shook his head with a shrug. "I once had an associate make me watch a series of videos of… questionable quality… for hours upon hours before he'd make a deal with me. Does that count?"

"No, that doesn't count. Well, this settles it. I know what we're doing the rest of the day. There's a whole world for you to discover here."

Lizzy's enthusiasm was contagious, and Red couldn't help but be charmed by the idea that wanting to share something with him could make her so happy. "Lizzy, I don't think I can remember seeing you this excited about something since… well, possibly ever."

"Hey, can you blame me? How often do I get to introduce you to something?" She nodded towards his half-eaten plate of food. "You think you could carry Agnes to the bedroom for me when you're done? My neck's a little stiff and since you're awake now, I'd rather relax in bed than try to watch something out here."

"Sure," he agreed.

Red tried not to feel like it was too good to be true that this could possibly be the new normal for him—lounging around with Lizzy well into the evening, with Agnes cocooned between them on top of Lizzy's quilt. Ever since he turned himself in to the FBI, he rarely had time for lazy days like this. But life was changing, after all. In ways he truly never would have anticipated.

They ended up picking something to watch at random that Netflix suggested Lizzy would like, apparently based on her viewing habits. Truth be told, it didn't really matter what they were watching; Red didn't remember much of it later. His attention was more thoroughly absorbed by Agnes playing with her little stuffed toys than by whatever was on screen at any given moment. Lizzy probably didn't retain very much of the plot either as she watched him watch their daughter, but the cautious affection in her gaze warmed his soul. He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

He stopped counting nights after that.


	6. Chapter 6

Over time, Red and Lizzy settled into something like a comfortable routine. He shared breakfast with her and Agnes a few times a week, whether he fell asleep reading Agnes a bedtime story the night before or he only dropped by bearing containers full of take out in the morning before Lizzy left for work.

They shared dinner even more often, because decompressing together at the end of a long day helped keep tensions low and communication open. Lizzy would arrive home and bid the nanny goodnight, and Red would show up once the coast was clear. Then they would simply… spend time together.

It was almost too easy. He and Lizzy hadn't had a serious run in with each other in months. All it took was talking—and listening, _really_ listening—to each other. ( _What a concept_ , he thought wryly.)

They hadn't slept in the same bed since Lizzy was sick, but on the mornings Red woke up at the apartment, he'd often discover she had also found reason to doze off in the room with him and Agnes. They were still dancing around their desire for closeness and what form it should take, but their relationship was without a doubt growing stronger, day by day.

And it _was_ a romantic relationship now, regardless of the fact that it hadn't become sexual again. They'd hit a point somewhere along the line, between the Netflix marathons and bottles of wine shared over dinner and their combined efforts to chase after the newly-mobile Agnes as she sped around the apartment on all fours.

The casual camaraderie they had found on the run started to return, with all the joking and teasing and smiles and laughter that came with it. And when things weren't all sunshine and rainbows? They were still there for each other at the end of a trying day, with a ready reassurance or a shoulder to cry on or a warm embrace.

Touch was not only limited to the bad times anymore. It was still easier to let Lizzy initiate, but Red was letting his guard down more and more as time went by, as he was able to convince his healing heart that his world wasn't in imminent danger of crashing down around him yet again.

Who would've thought they'd actually be well suited to this life? Bonding with their daughter gave them the means to repair and fortify their own bond, which until then had been so badly damaged it had felt more like a phantom limb than the ever-present, inexplicable undercurrent it once was.

Tonight, Red didn't have anything in particular planned when he showed up at Lizzy's door. Agnes was already asleep, even—which he knew because Lizzy had sent him a carefully cropped photo on his burner phone of the little girl wearing the set of pajamas he gave her the week before. Despite that, Lizzy still welcomed him into her apartment without hesitation, taking the bottle of wine from his hand and heading straight for the corkscrew without even checking to see what type of food he brought with him.

He set the takeout containers on the coffee table and gathered silverware and plates from the kitchen while she pulled out the cork and poured two generous servings of wine. She took a long draw from her glass and closed her eyes as the flavor washed over her taste buds.

"Rough day?" he asked, once she came up for air.

"You think?" She lifted her glass and clinked it against his in a perfunctory toast before sinking down onto the couch. Red sat on the other end, watching Lizzy wrench one of her heavy leather boots off her feet. "Your contact had me running all over the city on a wild goose chase today. Almost literally. Where do you even find these people?"

"I've known Jeremiah for years, I helped him out of a sticky situation once upon a time. He's…a little eccentric. And easily spooked, to say the least."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow. "He acted like he thought he was a Blacklister and you were selling him out to the feds in exchange for first dibs on his prize golden geese."

Red chuckled. "I suppose I could've done a better job singing your praises to Jeremiah before your meeting so he wouldn't be so skittish around you."

She pulled off her second boot and slumped back into her growing collection of eclectic throw pillows. Red gestured to her stocking feet. "May I?"

The ten seconds that passed while Lizzy considered Red's offer were among the longest of his entire life, but then she swiveled around and rested her sore feet in his lap and he exhaled.

"Socks on or off?"

"Off," she said; Red reached for the edge of her sock and she scrunched up her toes, making her calf muscle tense under his fingers. "Fair warning—it won't be pretty."

"Well, it's the least I can do, isn't it?"

Lizzy studied his face for a moment before she allowed herself to relax into his touch, leaning her head back against the arm of the couch with a sigh as he went to work on her feet.

"I doubt building me up ahead of time would've made much of a difference with Ressler there. Nothing makes me channel my inner cop like having him hovering over my shoulder, playing Mr. By-the-Book."

Lizzy inhaled sharply when Red dug into a particularly tender spot near her heel and she covered her face with her hands.

"Oh god," she said, her voice slightly muffled. "You know what's really underrated?"

"Foot massages?"

"No. I mean, they are. But that's not what I meant. Compatibility. Compatibility is _sorely_ underrated. And not just surface level compatibility, either. I'm talking about fundamentals. Hopes and dreams."

Red listened intently, wondering where she was going with this train of thought.

"Look at you and me. Under all the labels, all the… contradictions… deep down, we both wanted the same thing. And now that we have it, so much of the stuff we used to clash over doesn't seem so important anymore. It just… melted away. Like the pain in my feet, oh my _god_ , please don't stop."

Lizzy's breathless plea was matched with an almost writhing motion, which pressed her foot firmly into Red's squeezing fingers, pushing his thumb deep into her aching arch. A shiver went down his spine and he let his eyes slide shut because he was sure that if she could see them, it would be far too easy to read where his mind had gone.

Were they just comfortable enough around each other now that she didn't realize what effect she might have on him? Or _did_ she realize? Did she not mind?

"Should I even ask what brought all this up?"

"Oh, one too many hours holed up in a stakeout van with Ressler. Apparently, he has Opinions with a capital O about the state of my love life."

"Ah."

"Which he thinks is either nonexistent or in a state of suspended animation while I wait futilely for Tom to return from who knows where. He thinks I need to get out more."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him to mind his own damn business. Besides, why go out when we can have nights like this here?"

"He may keep bothering you as long as he doesn't know you're taken," Red said.

"OK, but that's not half as infuriating as him thinking he knows my feelings towards Tom better than I do myself. We split up for a reason; Ressler shouldn't have to know what it is to believe me when I tell him it's permanent." She took another long sip from her glass. "To hell with him. He can shove his opinions where the sun don't shine for all I care. I'm happy where I am. Whether he knows why that is or not."

Red held Lizzy's gaze as the two of them fell silent, contemplating how relaxed her tone had been, speaking about compatibility and happiness, all in relation to him. Quiet nights at home together was as perfect a way as he could think of spending his time now. It was heartening to know she thought so, too.

"We should eat," he said, winding down his massage with an affectionate caress. "Before the food gets too cold."

"Right. Food."

It took a few charged seconds for either of them to turn away. Red cleared his throat; Lizzy sat up properly and started opening all the takeout containers and scooping out portions of food onto their plates.

They ate mostly in companionable silence once Lizzy fired up the Netflix app on her television; by the time they polished off the bottle of wine and another bottle she had stashed in her kitchen besides, they were both starting to fade. Red's eyelids grew heavy. Lizzy's feet had found their way back into Red's lap over the course of their meal; she stretched languorously and bit back a yawn.

"I'm so relaxed right now, you might as well just pour me into bed," she said. "If I had my way, I'd sleep until noon. I doubt Agnes will oblige, but…" She shrugged.

"Well—" he patted her knee— "I think that's my cue to head out."

"Mmm," she said, but she seemed more reluctant than exhausted when she moved her legs to let him stand. She certainly managed to get to her feet quickly enough to trail after him as he went to kiss Agnes goodnight. She stopped just inside the door to the nursery, stood with her arms wrapped around her torso, and waited.

Once Red reached Agnes' crib, he stayed there for a while, watching her adorable little chest rise and fall with her adorable little breaths. Her hair was starting to get longer and less wispy, and it was as blonde now as his ever was when he was young. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, light enough not to wake her, and backed away.

Red crept to the hall and Lizzy caught him by the arm and pulled him into a hug, tucking her arms beneath his. "Thank you for dinner," she said, speaking into his shoulder. "It was lovely."

He pulled back to return the sentiment, but she was much closer than he expected when he turned his head, aiming obviously to give him her now customary peck on the cheek; her lips landed on his mouth instead, and they both froze for a long, tense moment before they relaxed into the impromptu kiss.

The world didn't end.

When they broke apart, there was still a hint of wariness in her eyes, as if she was unsure of his reaction to her accidentally overstepping the line they'd redrawn for themselves.

He raised his hand to caress her cheek and opened his mouth to speak, but quickly decided against it in favor of kissing her again. And again. Tiny, teasing kisses that started out chaste enough, but didn't stay that way for long. Not when she angled her head and pulled him closer with a hand at the back of his neck.

She tasted of wine and curry, but the flavor was infinitely more enjoyable paired with the warmth and responsiveness of her mouth. His heart thudded inside his chest, and his mind moved so quickly, he could hardly even begin to hold onto any of the thoughts careening through it.

It was only when he felt Lizzy's fingers tracing the border of his burn scars under his shirt collar that Red fully realized just how rapidly they were getting ahead of themselves. He pulled back a little, rested his hands at her hips while he tried to catch his breath.

Toying idly with the loosened knot on his tie, she asked, "Would you… would you like to stay?"

He tipped her head up with a gentle finger under her chin. "Would you like me to stay?"

She bit her lip and nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

Lizzy entwined her fingers with Red's and began to lead him down the hall towards her bedroom; he trailed closely behind her, more than a little bewildered at the sudden turn of events. He had had no intention of ending up in her bed, either platonically or otherwise, when he showed up on her doorstep earlier, no expectations for when—or if!—their relationship would travel down this road again. He wasn't about to complain that it had, but a whirlwind of emotions blustered through his mind nonetheless, threatening to shake him free of his moorings.

Once they were inside, she shut the bedroom door until it barely touched the doorjamb and a twinge of sympathy curled in Red's stomach. Lizzy had told him that after everything that had happened with Kirk, she had trouble trusting the baby monitor alone to keep tabs on Agnes. It simply wasn't enough to give her peace of mind in a world where someone could kidnap a baby and even consider using them to save their own life. She needed to be within earshot of her daughter whenever they were alone, to be able to hear her with her own ears, or she couldn't fully relax.

Lizzy knew all too well she was compensating for how much she regretted the way she spent the first few weeks of Agnes' life, time she traded for a false promise, but she still couldn't help it. She'd never get those weeks back with Agnes, she'd never be able to undo what she had done. The guilt she carried for going along with Kate's plan manifested itself in unexpected ways sometimes, and Red knew his forgiveness could only go so far to reassure her. Guilt wasn't always rational, and it was certainly more difficult to reason away when your actions truly did cause pain.

When she turned around and stood in front of him now, Red could feel her nervous exhilaration almost as strongly as he felt his own. Heat danced in her eyes, mingling with something that looked almost like mischief. They hadn't tried this before, tried to sneak away and make love before they could be interrupted by a fussy infant. It felt so _ordinary_ , it almost doubled back around to being scandalous.

Lizzy took a step forward, wrapped her arms around the back of Red's neck, and leaned in. Their lips had barely even made contact again when they both heard a faint noise from down the hall. She pulled back just far enough to cover his mouth with a couple of fingers, and cocked her head to listen. Sure enough, Agnes had started crying. Lizzy's instincts, it seemed, were right on the money. They stood there for a few moments—Lizzy with one hand on his shoulder and the other resting on his lips, half-forgotten, Red with his hands draped loosely at her waist—and waited to see if Agnes would soothe herself, to no avail.

Red pressed a soft kiss to the pads of Lizzy's fingers.

"Hold that thought," she said, and gave him a quick peck before running off to tend to Agnes; he nodded absently and once she was gone, he backed up, still in a bit of a daze, and sat reflexively when the back of his knees made contact with the edge of her bed.

He took a deep breath, and then another, trying and failing to settle himself. Kissing Lizzy was… Well, he felt like he was on top of the world again. His body was alive with a rush of endorphins and arousal he hadn't felt in quite a while. He wasn't sure when the last time he… No. The night on the container ship. That was the last time he felt like this.

But that night the future had been so terrifying and unknown. That night he wasn't sure if Lizzy would ever be able to live again without looking over her shoulder, running from her own government and a relentless cabal that could be anywhere at any time.

Tonight, none of that mattered anymore. Sure, there was still danger lurking in an unknown future and there always would be as long as he was The Concierge of Crime, but it was so much less immediate, less imminent. Tonight, Red's greatest worry was how he and Lizzy would adapt to this change to their status quo. And, even more pressing, what the hell should he do with himself until she came back?

Should he… should he take off his shoes? Should he undress? Should he get into bed, under the covers, and pretend that this really was something they did everyday, pretend like the last time they slept together, euphemistically speaking, wasn't a lifetime ago?

He settled for removing just his shoes and his button down shirt, and then he stretched himself out on top of the covers. He laced his fingers together over his belly, but unlaced them just as quickly, much too nervous to keep still that way. He fidgeted instead with the fabric of the quilt, and brushed away random bits of imagined lint from his trousers, waiting on tenterhooks for Lizzy to return.

It wasn't long before she ducked back into the room and pulled the door to touch again, silently.

"Is she OK?"

She nodded. "She just needed a fresh diaper."

"That's good."

Lizzy wandered over to her side of the bed and looked Red up and down, taking a cue from him and shrugging out of her cardigan before tossing it over the arm of the same chair he'd left his dress shirt folded over. She stood there for a long moment, not really looking at anything in particular, rubbing absentmindedly at the scar on her wrist.

"So…" Red trailed off.

Lizzy met his eyes briefly, letting out a nervous huff of a laugh. "This is so silly," she said, but still didn't move. "Why am I nervous? It's not like it's the first time we've ever…"

"Come here," he said, and turned on his side, holding open his arms, ready to wrap around her; the odd tension drained from her posture and she crawled over to him, tucked herself in to his embrace. "Better?"

"Mmm, yes." She took hold of his hand, sliding her fingers between his, and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his jaw. "Now, where were we?" she asked, her voice a low whisper that sent a pleasant thrill up his spine.

Red eyes slid shut and he angled his head, blindly seeking her lips. She must have brushed her teeth while she was gone. The cool, minty tingle contrasted beautifully with the warmth of her mouth.

Lizzy was usually a very uninhibited kisser. She might hold a lot of emotions very close to her chest, but she gave kissing every ounce of her attention when she was truly engaged, which was why Red could so easily pinpoint the moments now when her mind started drifting. He knew what was happening to her. He knew because it was happening to him, too. They would freeze up and stiffen and have to physically shake themselves to try to stay grounded in the present.

Red wanted nothing more than to be able to stop it, to stay focused on the fact that he was here, now, and Lizzy was in his arms again at long last. But try as they might, they both kept getting snagged in mental boobytraps, in the minefield of their memories.

Lizzy pulled back, rested her forehead against his jaw. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me tonight."

"It's fine," he said; she shook her head, eyes closed in embarrassment. "No, I mean it. Really." He hugged her to him, close enough that she would surely be able to notice the lack of his own excitement. And notice she did, peering back up at him with her brow a concerned furrow.

He offered her a crooked smile and a shrug. "We're not ready yet. And that's OK."

"But I _do_ want you. I always—shit." Lizzy ducked her head again, a fierce blush working its way down the skin of her neck. "I always want you."

Her bashful confession surprised a chuckle out of Red, flattered him as much as it warmed his soul. "Likewise," he said, and kissed her on one of her beet-red cheeks.

"Oh, good, I'm glad we're on the same page," she said, in a sarcastic show of nonchalance so transparent, she couldn't even keep a straight face long enough to finish the sentence. "God, why are we like this?"

"Lizzy, sweetheart… we're human. We've been to hell and back, the both of us. Is it any wonder we're still struggling? When we're ready, we're ready. Until then… Well, there's no rush. There'll be more chances. I promise you that."

Red tipped Lizzy's face up and gave her a deep, intoxicating kiss. When she pulled back, he brushed her hair away from her face, traced the angle of her jawline. "Would you mind terribly if I still stayed?"

"No, of course not. I was hoping you'd say that." Lizzy avoided his line of sight, fixated instead on where her hand rested on his chest, playing distractedly with the chest hair his undershirt failed to cover. "I was hoping maybe you'd stay, you know… more permanently."

 _Permanently?_

Red worked his mouth, but no words would form. He was speechless. Utterly gobsmacked. Was Lizzy really asking what he thought she was asking? She wanted him to move in with her? He didn't even have any idea what such a thing would look like; the extent of his experience in cohabitation in the past couple decades consisted almost entirely of short stretches of time sharing safe houses with Dembe.

When he didn't respond to her question, Lizzy looked away and threw a hand over her eyes. "God. I didn't mean to bring this up now. What we've been doing has been so great. I just… I miss waking up next to you. It's just not the same when you spend the night on the couch. I can't just roll over and hold you whenever I need to."

Her voice grew more timid and small as she spoke, as if she was having a difficult time forcing the words to leave her throat.

"Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and think I'm in bed on that damn stage at your friend's theatre, but you're not there and I have to keep myself from… It's not a good feeling, to think even for a few seconds that maybe everything that happened really didn't, that I might have a chance to stop myself from… only to have it snatched away again."

"I'd love to wake up next to you."

 _Everyday. For the rest of my life_ , he thought, but didn't say. Perhaps she could read it in his face. Perhaps she even felt the same.

"Hang on," she said, and then rolled out of bed and padded over to her dresser; she opened the top drawer and searched around inside until she found whatever it was she was looking for. Something small enough to hide completely in one clenched fist, it seemed.

She crawled back into bed, knelt to sit on her legs at Red's side, and slowly—shakily—opened her hand.

Red pushed himself up, half sitting against the headboard, and peered into her palm to find a small object, wrapped in what looked like one of Agnes' old washcloths. He reached out, his hand poised to unwrap whatever it was, and met her eyes, silently asking permission.

"Go ahead," she said, and bit her lip.

He pulled back the threadbare fabric. Inside it was a key. Presumably to her apartment.

"Lizzy…" How long had she had this, set aside and waiting for him? Waiting for her to work up the nerve to offer it to him?

Red closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you," he said quietly, and picked up the key, running his thumb over the ridges.

As symbolic gestures went, this one meant the absolute world to him.

In the past, neither of them had been especially respectful of the boundary of only entering each other's apartment with permission, but that was the past. Since they started down the tenuous path to reconciliation, they had never crossed that line. Now here she was, offering him a key. It was so goddamn domestic and _normal_ , he could scarcely believe it had happened to him.

Red reached out for her free hand, the one not still clutching the tiny washcloth, and brought it to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it. Lizzy's breath hitched in her throat.

Her relief was palpable and her shy, hesitant grin was as beautiful as it was infectious. And then all of a sudden, she leaned forward to capture his lips again, and he could feel her grin pressed against his own. Goodness, but he could get used to this…

Lizzy broke the kiss after a few distracting moments and buried her smiling face under his chin with a giggle. "Crap," she said.

Red ran his hands lightly up and down her flank. "What's wrong?"

"I just realized… I'm gonna need a bigger closet."

Red threw back his head and laughed. Of all things to worry about, that was where her mind went first?

"I'm sure we'll figure something out."


	8. Chapter 8

"So _that's_ why the gelato keeps disappearing before I get any," came Lizzy's quiet voice from the doorway.

Red glanced over his shoulder with a spoonful of the aforementioned gelato in his mouth. "Well, now I feel like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or spoon in the ice cream carton, I suppose."

Lizzy offered him a small, sleepy smile and pushed herself off the door frame to join him at the table; she rubbed his shoulder and bent to drop a kiss to the crown of his head on the way. Red still wasn't used to the feeling of her lips pressed against his bare scalp, but he treasured it nonetheless—the easy intimacy in the act, the comfort in it. It made him nostalgic for a time long past, a time that had a lot more in common with his life now than he ever thought possible.

She pulled out the chair on the other side of the table as silently as she could so as not to wake Agnes and propped her head up drowsily on an elbow. "You gotta let me take some of these nighttime teething shifts."

"You need your sleep."

"So do you," she said, and reached out across the table to grasp his hand. He watched her thumb move over the skin on his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. It was mesmerizing, really. As were her eyes, when he looked up to meet them. There was such naked care and concern in them, something she rarely allowed herself to show unless they were completely alone. In the past, it was rare even then. But things had changed. They lived together now. They let their guard down around each other on a daily basis and it didn't even feel especially terrifying anymore.

"I'm… restless in the best of times, Lizzy."

She chewed on her lip for a moment. "We used to sleep pretty well before. You know, considering."

Sure, they had indeed done a solid job of helping each other sleep while they were on the run, through a heady mix of sensuality and dependence, but it had never been particularly healthy. They were trying to do things right this time. Leaning more heavily on their partnership than their attraction for the time being seemed like a wise decision.

"That was the exception, rather than the rule. For me, at least."

"Yeah. Me, too." She gave his hand a squeeze. "I still don't mind if you wake me. There's something peaceful about waking up in the middle of the night. Everything's so still and quiet, like the world's forgotten about you for a little while. It's nice. Especially when you have someone to share it with."

Red scooped up another spoonful of gelato and held in out across the table. Lizzy leaned forward and ate it, dragging her lips across the bowl of the spoon to catch every drop; he swallowed reflexively as he watched her.

"Mmm. Chocolate peanut butter this time?"

He nodded. "Do you want a bowl or another spoon or—"

"Actually—" standing again, Lizzy slid herself around the table—"I was thinking I could just…"

She arranged herself in Red's lap and took advantage of his surprise to take the spoon from his lax fingers and scoop up another bit of gelato. Red couldn't look away as she turned the spoon over and licked it clean.

"This is very good," she said, and filled the spoon again, offering it to Red this time.

"Delicious," he agreed.

That surreal still silence Lizzy spoke about settled over the kitchen, wrapping its liminal strangeness around the two of them. It was as pleasant as she said it was, sharing it with her. Red felt a warmth rising in his chest, losing himself in the fondness in Lizzy's eyes.

Red and Lizzy leaned in at the same time, closing the small distance between their faces for a kiss, then another, and another—slow, languorous kisses that tasted of gelato and tranquility. The spoon clattered to the table, forgotten, as Lizzy cupped his face between her hands; Red splayed his fingers over her lower back, bracing and balancing her in the almost awkward position she sat in across his lap.

When they eventually pulled back, they rested their foreheads together and sighed, contentment spreading from the tips of their fingers to the tips of their toes.

If this was the new normal, Red liked it. He liked it a lot.


	9. Chapter 9

Shower curtain hooks rattled loudly as they slid across the rod as the shower curtain opened behind Red's back. Chilly air wafted into the shower and with it came Lizzy—naked and in the middle of brushing her teeth. Red barely had time to process what he was seeing before she squeezed some of her body wash onto a loofah and started sudsing herself up.

"Lizzy, what on earth?"

She pulled the toothbrush out of her mouth to speak clearly. "Sorry, didn't have time to wait until you finished. Ressler's gonna be here in five minutes to pick me up; Cooper wants me in _yesterday_ —something about a break in the case. Good morning, by the way," she said, and brushed her lips against his briefly, leaving behind a minty tingle.

Well, then. Red hadn't expected the first time they'd share a shower to be under these circumstances, but their relationship and the path that it took had never been what he'd call predictable. Luckily, he'd almost rinsed off completely by the time she jumped in the shower with him, so it only took a few seconds to finish and leave her to her own ablutions.

Before he stepped out of the shower, Red put his hands on Lizzy's shoulders and kissed the back of her head, her wet hair sticking to his lips; she leaned into his touch even as she rushed to clean herself. Red grabbed hold of the shower curtain to pull it closed behind him, but stopped for a long moment, breath catching in his throat at the sight before him.

Lizzy stood under the spray of the shower as sunlight poured in from the window high on the wall. She was disheveled and rushed and half-covered in soap suds, softer in places than she had been the last time he'd seen her completely undressed—Good God, she was beautiful.

Red sighed and turned away to towel off.

He dressed quickly, but he still barely had time to fetch Agnes from her crib and set her down among her toys in the living room before Ressler pounded on the front door.

"Hey, Keen, come on! What's taking so long?" came Ressler's muffled voice.

Red rolled his eyes and pulled the door open; Ressler did the most comically obvious double-take Red had ever seen outside of a movie.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too, Donald. Elizabeth told me I should let you in, although personally I would've much preferred to wait and see how long it took for your training to take over and for you to decide to kick the door down."

"Spare me the pontificating, Reddington, and answer my damn question."

"I would think the answer was obvious—Elizabeth's sitter wasn't available so early in the morning on such short notice. Since you and Harold aren't being accommodating to the scheduling difficulties of a single mother, I offered my services to bridge the gap."

"It's _your_ blacklister she has to profile."

"And it couldn't wait until 9 AM?"

"He's a flight risk."

"He's not the only one. Excuse me for a moment, Donald," Red said, and quickly side-stepped Ressler into the hallway. "Don't you even think about it, you little escape artist." Red scooped a giggling Agnes up into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and clung onto him for dear life as he carried her back inside.

"I guess this means Keen doesn't mind you being around her daughter anymore."

Agnes squeezed him tighter and burrowed her head next to his, suddenly shy under Ressler's humorless attention; Red pressed a soft, calming kiss to her temple and rested his hand on the back of her head, downy-soft with her fine baby hair.

"We've made peace with each other," he said, his voice sounding strange and stilted enough to his own ears that he wondered why Ressler didn't key in on it. He settled so naturally into his role as Agnes' father, it was odd and uncomfortable to be reminded that their relationship was not as clear to others. Even if it was much safer that it wasn't.

Agnes must have sensed the rising tension in his body, because she started to fuss, her breathing hitching in a way that signaled an incoming crying jag. Red searched around for one of the emergency pacifiers Lizzy stashed around the apartment and held it up for her, and she grabbed it swiftly to stuff into her mouth. From the safety and security of Red's arms, she turned her inquisitive gaze on Ressler, finally content.

"Why is she looking at me like that?" Ressler asked, his voice low and uneasy. "It's weird."

"You don't have much experience with children, do you, Donald?"

"You're telling me it doesn't make you uncomfortable when someone looks at you like they can see into your soul?"

"I'm flattered that you think I have a soul."

"Well, the kid likes you."

"I suppose she does."

The trio stood in silence for a moment, Ressler and Agnes studying each other while Red observed them both.

"Keen's kinda like that sometimes," Ressler said. "Like she can see right through your bullshit. Guess it makes sense her kid is, too."

"I'd scold you for your language, but I think we're safe. For a few more weeks at least."

"She sure is cute, though. Even if she looks like she's judging my every move." Ressler leaned in closer and ducked his head to better meet Agnes' eyes. "Hey, kid, don't spend so much time around Reddington, he'll start to rub off on y—"

Agnes reached out then and covered Ressler's mouth with the entirety of her little hand, silencing him and sending his eyebrows up his forehead in shock; Red threw back his head and laughed.


	10. Chapter 10

To Red, the idea of someone sitting on the sofa necking with their sweetheart sounded like something teenagers did.

Teenagers in the 1950s.

(Before he was born, _thank you very much_.)

It wasn't ever really part of his adolescent experience, to be quite honest. He tended more towards dark hidden corners, cramped backseats of cars, under the bleachers during a baseball game that he couldn't play in because he injured his knee…

With Lizzy, though, it felt right. With Lizzy, a lot of things felt right that he never would have thought would apply to him.

Raising a baby in his fifties. Settling down, at least as much as The Concierge of Crime ever could. Being in love with an FBI agent. All of it was absurd, but oh so right for him, because of her.

Red knew he was head over heels for Lizzy again, that they'd barreled past the last of their barriers in the weeks since he effectively moved in with her. Familiarity, in their case, bred the opposite of contempt.

Over the past few weeks, goodnight kisses began to last a little longer and affectionate caresses lingered, Netflix nights involved more copious use of the rewind button because they missed entire segments of shows and movies while caught up in each other. Slowly but surely, Red and Lizzy's caution was giving way to passion. And necking. And nights like tonight.

In fact, nights like tonight were quickly becoming the norm, when Agnes was long since asleep in her crib and Red and Lizzy sat on the sofa in the living room and… kissed. They kissed like kissing was the end goal. And for a long time, it was—but Lizzy had never been a particularly patient person and while Red was, his capacity for patience was hard earned rather than innate. Dipping their toes into sexual intimacy again seemed less and less frightening as time went on, as their daily routine proved to be exactly what it needed to be to keep them on the road to domestic harmony.

It was easy to feel like a young man again on nights like this, to feel a thrill of excitement when Lizzy's hand, which had been sitting warmly on his thigh, began to inch upwards and inwards—caressing all the while—until she cupped him lightly through his trousers. He was already half hard from their slow, drugging, thorough kisses, and her curious fingers only exacerbated his predicament.

When he inhaled sharply, she grew bolder, stroking him firmly along his swelling length. He groaned into her mouth and she grinned against his, before maneuvering herself into a better position to continue her exploration.

It was easily the furthest they'd gone since they'd rekindled their relationship. As intimidating an idea as that was, Red didn't want to stop. It felt so _good_ to be in love again, to not be so wary that his world would end at any moment. It finally felt like it was time. Like they were ready. Like they had settled into their partnership enough now that they could handle the added complexities sex could bring to their lives.

Lizzy had quite obviously reached a similar conclusion. She undid the button on his trousers and slowly unzipped his fly, and when he did nothing but grip at the fabric on the seat cushions next to him, she pulled his shirt out from his trousers and began unbuttoning it from the bottom up.

As soon as she brushed his shirt open, she leaned down to press a kiss to the center of Red's chest, and then another and another, meandering her way over to one of his nipples. She took a few moments to tease his sensitive flesh, nuzzling and licking and sucking, and she punctuated the attention with tiny, sharp nips of her teeth.

Red couldn't help the soft gasps he gave at the sensation, couldn't help the way the little spikes of pain thrummed down to his cock, ratcheting up his anticipation for when she would finally touch him there, unimpeded by clothing.

God, he missed the way she touched him—that particular mix of impatience and determination and quick-studied skill. She knew what she wanted and, by god, she'd get it. Especially from him. Where she led, he followed; it had served him well enough lately—and in the past, despite some missteps along the way.

By the time Lizzy trailed her fingers back down Red's abdomen, making his muscles clench and unclench in ticklish reflex, his cock was doing its damnedest to escape his tented boxers. Her hand came to a stop just above his waistband and she let it rest there while she kissed her way across his chest to nip at his other nipple, the damp path the left cooling pleasantly in her wake.

She made no effort to move her hand any further south, just traced her fingernails through his belly hair, over and over. His hips began to move of their own volition, rocking slightly with the stimulation, desperately seeking out more of it. She wasn't near enough to his erection for his movements to be of much use, though, so he spread his legs, giving her more room to explore his body, as well as the unspoken permission to do so.

Unhurriedly, her hand slipped under the fabric of his boxers to close around him and draw him out over the waistband. She worked her fingers up and down his thickening shaft, and when she cupped her other hand around his balls and started rolling them lightly between her fingers, he threw his head back against the sofa.

"Touch me," Lizzy said, a breathy mixture of a command and a plea which Red couldn't help but oblige—and then she lowered her head to take him into her mouth. Red saw stars. Weeks of slowly escalating anticipation hadn't done quite enough to prepare him for the reality of Lizzy leaning over his lap to suck his cock.

Something was always going to be the first act to step across their line in the sand, but of everything, he hadn't considered that it would be this. The opposite, perhaps—his enthusiasm for that particular activity wasn't exactly a secret. But he supposed Lizzy _had_ been the one to make the first move as every juncture in their romantic relationship so far. Why should this time be any different?

To distract himself from the shock of the magnitude of the sensation, Red gently brushed Lizzy's hair back from her face, from the pale length of her neck, grateful for the dark contrast of her natural hair color against her skin. It was reassuring to have such a stark visual touchstone to keep him grounded in the present, to keep his mind from traveling back to the last time she'd done this for him. Or the first. It was better only to think of tonight, as much as he could. Both of them had been having an easier time keeping the past in perspective where it belonged, but they were in mostly uncharted territory now.

Red ran his fingernails lightly through the wispy hairs at Lizzy's nape and she shivered, moaning around his cock. If he knew her at all—and he did—he knew that her underwear would be drenched by now with her arousal. Just the thought of it, the thought of burying his face between _her_ thighs, of tasting her again at long last… That alone was almost too much for him. Add to it the teasing torture of Lizzy's tongue and he found himself quickly at the precipice in the wet heat of her mouth. So much time had passed since Red had been with another person that he didn't—couldn't—last long.

"Lizzy," he croaked, his voice raspy, rough with arousal.

In an instant, she pulled off of him and pushed herself up so she could meet his eyes, a tiny hint of a furrow forming between her brows. "You're close," she said, clearly relieved that she found no evidence of distress in his own expression.

He nodded fervently, breathlessly. "But you don't have to—"

She leaned near enough that he could feel her breath on his face when she lifted her jaw and whispered, "And if I want to?"

Lizzy's question stood for a beat while all Red could hear was his heart in his ears. Once his brain managed to catch up and process that she had actually said what she said, he speared his fingers through her hair and angled his neck so their lips could meet, fierce and deep. He tasted himself faintly on her tongue, a discovery which made him leak even more fluid down his swollen shaft. She broke the kiss and deliberately held his gaze while she spread the fluid down the length of him with her fist; he swallowed hard and finally nodded his assent.

All of the air in Red's lungs left him in a rush as Lizzy bent down and sucked him into her mouth again, toying with the tiny slit at the head of his cock, pressing the flat of her tongue to that particular spot under the ridge. It was an all out offensive against his senses, as if she decided to challenge herself to see just how quickly she could bring him over the edge. She worked her hand in counterpoint to the rhythmic movement of her head, drawing moan after moan from his throat, not letting even an inch of him to go unattended for long as he raced towards completion.

When Red came, his hearing went, his senses dulled but for the feeling of the hot, wet suction of Lizzy's mouth on him. His name was the first thing he heard when he came back to himself. His first name, spoken in a voice low with something like hesitance and concern, sounding still like it came from a distance. "Raymond."

"I'm all right," he said. "I need a minute."

Lizzy offered him a languid, lopsided smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Red let out a breath of a laugh. Reaching out, he took her hand with his own still trembling slightly, and entwined their fingers; he brought her hand to his mouth to leave a kiss there. "Always."

There was still a strange sense of restlessness in the air between them, despite the leisurely ease of their companionable silence. Lizzy was still so very aroused. Her face was flushed a fetching pink that continued down under the neckline of her shirt. Her eyes held that lust-glazed look Red remembered so well as she studied what she could see of his body in the light of the side table lamp, greedy for every inch of uncovered, uninhibited flesh. Her lips were swollen and red; they were much warmer to the touch than they usually were when he brushed his thumb over her them with his palm resting against her soft cheek.

As soon as Red felt like his limbs would cooperate with his mind again, he shifted closer to where Lizzy knelt next to him on the couch, helped guide her to lay back against the couch cushions, and stretched his body out over hers, bracing himself on his elbows on either side of her head.

She was so lovely, gazing up at him like she was. Lizzy—his partner, the mother of his child, the love of his life… his way home. It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that she was here with him, even more so that they'd returned to this point after everything.

Red moved at the same time she did, leaned down as she strained up, and captured her mouth in a searing, searching kiss. The taste of himself still lingered between them, more sharply now; he wondered vaguely if she enjoyed tasting herself on his tongue as much as he enjoyed this.

Red reached for the hem of her shirt to lift and slide the soft cotton up and off of her body. As soon as her upper half was uncovered, Lizzy slipped her arms inside his unbuttoned shirt, wrapping around his back and pulling him down so their naked chests pressed together. He held himself there for a long moment while she trailed kisses along the front of his shoulder, dragging her teeth along his skin, and traced her fingers along the scars on his back.

It would be so easy to stay like this, kissing and being kissed, but he so desperately wanted to reciprocate her earlier attentions, wanted to learn the new topography of her body that he'd only had chances to glimpse in passing since Agnes was born.

It was inevitable that Lizzy's body had gone through changes with pregnancy and childbirth; as far as Red was concerned, she was all the more beautiful for them. He kissed his way along a similar path as the one she'd taken on his own body, though since she was less fond of pain to enhance her pleasure than he was, he kept his ministrations less… sharp… than hers had been.

Lizzy, he knew, preferred solid weight and pressure, and firm, deliberate teasing. Too light a touch set her on edge and took her out of the moment, because she couldn't help but focus her attention on anticipating her partner's next move rather than simply enjoying the ride. Red thought perhaps having some semblance of predictability made her feel secure when the rest of her world had proven to be so unstable for her. His own predilections were certainly a balm to his sometimes tortured mind, a chance to allow himself be led in at least one aspect of his life when he usually couldn't afford such a luxury at all.

Red's lips chased a giggle down past Lizzy's navel, and she grabbed hold of him by the back of the head, pulling him closer so the contact would be less ticklish. When he finally reached his destination and helped her out of her sleep pants and underwear, she moved to rest her legs over his shoulders, pressed her thighs against each side of his face. He spread her open with his fingers before he let his eyes fall closed and, at long last, dipped his head to taste her.

She was just as exquisite as he remembered. No, even more exquisite… He slotted his fingers on either side of her clit, giving her some indirect stimulation to work against as he teased the organ itself with his mouth. She moved so fluidly under his tongue, hips rocking along with his attention, one hand again gripping his head and the other the edge of the couch cushion.

Lizzy inhaled sharply as he began to slip a finger inside her, clenched her muscles around it with a whimper. Another finger set off a low moan, the stretching of it pleasant rather than painful despite how long it had been since she'd been with anyone because of how worked up she was. She ground down against him as he rubbed firmly at her inner walls, the movement of her hips swiftly becoming erratic.

She drew her fingernails up the back of Red's neck, cupped his cheek to coax his attention back to her face. He leaned into the warmth of her hand and let his eyes slip closed again briefly, but she didn't speak until he opened them and met her gaze.

"Are you ready to go again? I want to come with you inside me."

Red lost his breath in surprise, remembering despite himself how it felt when she climaxed around him, how her gripping heat would clench around him rhythmically on the rare occasion they had allowed themselves to stay joined until either of them finished.

"Well, if I wasn't, I am now."

A brilliant grin spread across Lizzy's lips and Red's heart skipped a beat, the marrow-deep affection he carried for her swelling in his chest. Good god, he had it bad.

He knelt back and shucked off his unbuttoned shirt; stumbling to his feet, he shoved at his trousers and boxers until they pooled on the floor and he could step out of them. He stood before her then completely nude, but had no time at all to feel self-conscious—or any reason to; Lizzy bit her lip as she took in the sight of him, her smile curving now in a sensual sort of mischief.

"Come here," she said, making space for him between her arms, between her thighs. He crawled up the length of the couch and settled against her, rocked his hips and rubbed his hard length through her wetness, dragging the blunt head across her swollen clit. She moved with him, writhing against the slick friction between them; before long, she reached down to align him properly.

They both gasped as he sank into her, holding each other's gaze all the while. Once their bodies were flush against each other, it felt like time stood still. All Red could hear beyond his heart pounding in his ears was Lizzy's panting breaths. She pulled his head down to kiss him, closed her teeth on his bottom lip as she pulled away.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. He rocked his pelvis forward, pressing hard against her clit, and she gasped out a laugh, almost in disbelief. "Yeah, I'm good. God. You feel so…"

"Good?"

She pinched his ass. "Yeah. Very. Now will you please start moving?"

"You mean slow and steady isn't what you were hoping for tonight?"

"For god's sake, Red, I was about five seconds away from climaxing before we—" He withdrew almost completely and pushed inside smoothly again, aided by her slickness. " _Oh_."

"Again?"

"Yes."

He snapped his hips. "Like this?"

"Harder," she bit out around a moan in her throat, and her eyes rolled back when he obliged. "Yes! Fuck!" Her fingernails dug into his forearms as their bodies thrust against each other, pricking his skin and drawing a growl from his throat. Lizzy tightened her legs around Red's waist, gripped him with her tight, wet heat every time he withdrew from her, rocked herself up to press hard against him when he returned.

As they rocketed along the path to completion, their movements grew less and less controlled. Lizzy reached her peak first, with a cry that she muffled by biting down on his shoulder; the unexpected ache tripped something in his mind and dragged him over the edge with her. He collapsed against her chest, panting, utterly and completely spent.

When Red came back to himself, it was to the sensation of Lizzy's hands, slipping slightly on his sweaty skin, maneuvering his head around so she could plant kiss after kiss on his head and his neck and his face, wherever she could reach with the weight of his trembling body restricting her range of motion. There was wetness on her cheeks where they brushed against him.

"Are you OK?" he asked, feeling his own eyes start to sting, but she just nodded fiercely and captured his mouth. He parted his lips with a whimper, allowing her in to deepen the kiss; tears started to spill over down his cheeks to mix with hers.

"God, I've missed this," she said into the side of his neck, in between pressing lazy kisses to the skin there. "I don't think I'll ever be able to explain how much I…" She trailed off, mouth moving wordlessly as she stared up into his eyes.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Believe me, I understand."


End file.
